


Puer Regis

by tlea



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Boy King of Hell Sam, Brothers, Depression, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Kid Winchesters, Nightmares, Protective Dean Winchester, Psychic Abilities, Psychic Sam, Sam Has Powers, Sam Winchester's Demonic Powers, Sam Winchester's Visions, Suicidal Sam, Suicidal Thoughts, Teen Winchesters, Weechesters, Young Dean Winchester, Young Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-27
Updated: 2015-01-27
Packaged: 2018-03-09 09:17:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3244316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tlea/pseuds/tlea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There had always been something wrong with Sam, Dean never wanted to admit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Puer Regis

**Author's Note:**

> This is the (extremely) shortened version of a story that I plan on making longer, and adding multiple chapters too and then posting later on when I get it finished. At the moment I'm just not sure when I will get the full story done, or if I ever will, so I went ahead and decided to post the shortened 'alternate ending' just in case I never get to finish the full thing!

  **Prologue**

 

   Kids always had nightmares: dinosaurs invading their home, a monster under their

bed, or simply being alone in a dark room. Sam never had those nightmares, though. At the age of five Sam had the same nightmare continuously, nothing else. He would always be laying down, and

suddenly there would be fire everywhere. He would hear someone scream his name, but he

was never able to identify the sound of the voice, or the face who was always burning above

him. He was staring at a blank face, engulfed by the flames.

 

   He thought nothing of the dream for years. It's a nightmare. Nightmare's aren't real. At least he

thought that until the age of seven, when the blank body above him, now had a face: his

mother's. The nightmare started feeling more real. He would wake with watery eyes and a sore

throat from the smoke. He could easily smell the smoke and burnt flesh as he was practically

glued to the floor and had no other choice than to watch his mother burn. It was just a dream.

Just a nightmare.

Nightmares aren't real.

Right?

\--

   At the age of 10 he learned that you could dream memories. He had asked if memories could

form into nightmares. The answer had been, " Of course."

 

   That day when he got home he wasted no time in asking, " Dean, why did mom burn on a

ceiling? How does that even happen?" Obviously it had been the wrong thing to ask because

Dean immediately tensed up and quickly turned around to face a confused Sam.

 

" Who told you that?" Dean raised his voice slightly, because Sam wasn't supposed to know. He

was  _never_  supposed to know.

 

" Wha-?" Sam began, because what did Dean mean who told him? He hadn't even known he

was right! It was just a stupid nightmare. Not real.  _Not_  real.

 

" How did you find out!" Dean demanded as Sam began to stutter.

 

" I-I..you mean I was right?"

 

" What?" Dean scrunched up his eyebrows and stared Sam down harder. He wouldn't dare

show it, but right now he was flipping the hell out. He didn't want to have the talk then, or twenty years in the future. He never wanted to have to talk about this, at least not to Sammy. Sam didn't deserve it. Not after everything.

 

" No one told me, Dean. I just knew! I mean, I didn't think I knew, but obviously I did know." Sam

rambled quickly, losing Dean along the way. Dean wanted to smack Sam and tell him to shut up,

slow down, and make a hell lot of more sense, because he was seriously confused. The only

coherent thought running through his mind was  _Sam knows. He knows..he knows_.

 

  " Sam, you're not making any sense." And that was the thing that was scaring Dean. Sam always made sense. And right now, he was making little to none. Know? What the hell did Sam mean by that? How could he possibly know!

 

   Sam grunted out, annoyed, and talked in what Dean thought was almost a panic, " Yes I am! I dont know how I knew, but I did. I did! I've been having dreams..well nightmares-"

 

" Nightmares?" Dean's eyebrows made for his hairline and he looked  at Sam. Sam always told Dean when he was having nightmares, or Dean at least knew somehow, but he didn't know about them this time. Sam was keeping things from him. That's something Sam never did.

 

      "Yes! I've been having them for years-"

 

"Years?" Dean practically barked, taking a step forward as Sam gave him his in-famous bitch face.

 

  " Shut up and let me talk!" Sam yelled, " In all of them, I've been lying down and there's always a fire. And someone yelling my name and someone above me, burning. I just..I thought it was a normal nightmare at first. But then the nightmare started to become more detailed...realistic. I figured out it was a lady screaming my name, and I could smell it, Dean! I could smell the burning of the body, and it's awful. And I looked up and.." Sam tried to regain his composure, sighed loudly, and choked out, " It was mom, Dean. It was mom! That's not how she died is it? How could I possibly know. How...Why-" Sam now had several tears streaming down his face and Dean...well you could say he was freaking out.

 Dean's face had paled considerably. Sam was freaking out. Dean had to calm him down. How could he possibly do that when himself was freaking out? Sam not only knew, but he basically got all the details correct- aside from the fact in his nightmares it sounded like he was his normal age, and not a baby.

 

  At a young age Sam constantly asked , " Why don't we have a mommy, Dean?" or " What happened to mom?" and who could forget the " Dean, why did mommy leave us? Did she hate us?" Which Dean had responded, " Don't worry, Sammy. You've got me. I'm even better than a mommy." And that seemed to satisfy Sam. As he got older he knew better than to ask about mom. He had asked once and his dad had had a raging fit, started throwing things, and made sure Sam never asked again. He didn't.

 

  Even if their dad had allowed Sammy to know, Dean didn't know if he would want Sam to know. How were you supposed to explain to your little brother that a demon had sneaked into his bedroom, to do who-knows-what, and mom had came to check up on him, and well the demon didn't like that very much, so he just decided he would cast mom upon the ceiling and let her burn right above his crib, letting him watch, while Dean was asleep safely in his room. How were you supposed to explain to your brother that he had seen his own mother die? In a fire. Caused by a demon.

 

But now he knew. From a  ~~dream~~  nightmare. How could he possibly have remembered that night in full detail? That wasn't normal. Sammy  _needed_  normal. He didn't need to be dreaming about his mom dying; he needed one normal thing in his not-so-normal, unstable life.

 

"Dean!" Sam practically sobbed, snapping Dean out of his thought filled haze, " Is that how she died!" He screamed, loudly, and Dean flinched.

_Sammy, you weren't supposed to know._

 

" Yeah, Sammy. " Dean replied reluctantly, not looking forward to Sams' breakdown that was sure to come in .5 seconds. Sam hitched in a breath and seemed to freeze, eyes wide. His cheeks still had a

glob of stickiness from the tears and his hazel eyes still shone from them as well.

 

" How-" Sam stuttered as he began to pace around the tiny room that they were currently calling their living room, " This isn't normal Dean. There's no way dreaming about your mom's death in exact detail is normal. What....Dean, why?" Sam had a billion questions but didn't really know how to ask them. All he really knew how to say and think was  _Why me. Why can't the universe just leave me alone!_

Dean walked towards Sam, placed both hands on his shoulders and bent down to his height, stilling Sam in place. " Sam." He spoke sternly, staring Sam down. " It's okay. You're okay."

 "Not normal," Sam mumbled.

 " Perfectly normal."  _Lie._  Dean hated lying, but right then that really was for Sams benefit. He needed to believe everything was normal, okay, because if he was told that he wasn't normal, he would dwell on it for weeks, months, hell maybe even years. He would never let it go. So right then he needed to be reassured. Told that he was normal. " I dream about things that happened all the time. You just got unlucky and only dream your nightmare of a memory. Sammy, it's okay. I promise."

 Sam said nothing for a few seconds, just stared at Dean. It was like he was trying to decide if what Dean said was true, " Don't tell dad." He was scared. Dad couldn't know. Dad could never know he knew. He'd be pissed. He would think him a  _freak._

_Not normal_

_Not normal_

**_Dean_ ** _says this is normal_

Dean frowned at Sam.

_Screw Dean._

" Whatever you want, Sammy, " The frown disappeared off Dean's face and it was replaced with a slight smile, " Just between you and me." Dean didn't know if he actually meant what he was saying. He had never lied to his dad or kept a secret from him. This would be the first and it was a pretty big secret, too. But Sam was right, their dad would flip. Who knows what he'd do, but it'd be best if he didn't find out.

 " Promise?" Sam gulped and he looked like he was four again, his floppy brown hair in his face and his hazel puppy dog eyes pleading up at Dean.

 " Obviously. " Dean scoffed, and then quickly grinned, racing over to the kitchen, " Now. Do y'want pizza or subs?"

 

**Two years and one month later**

It'd been two years since they last discussed the dream. They both hadn't spoken of it since that night. Though, of course when Sam jolted up from what Dean assumed was a nightmare, he would simply ask, " Again?" And Sam would respond with a yes or no, and that was that. They never actually specified what they meant, but they didn't need to. They knew perfectly well what the other meant.

 

 The nightmare had reoccurred less and less. It started off with him having it every other night, and then slowly over the months it changed to only two a week. Since his 12th birthday a month ago ( which had been his best; Dean having turned 16 only months before had been given the Impala and he had driven Sam to the movies and then to a store to buy actual, new shoes), the nightmare now occurred once every other week. This had Sam breathing a big sigh of relief. There was just one thing that confused him. His mom now stared at him with bright yellow eyes and sometimes he could swear that she was smirking at him, like she was mocking him or something. Though, once he realized the eyes and the smirk, they would vanish a second later, causing Sam to wonder if they were even there in the first place.

 

  They were currently residing in the Grizzly Motel of hot and muggy Louisiana. It was almost in the middle of June, meaning no school for either one of them. For most kids that would be the best thing ever, but for Sam and Dean it meant about the complete opposite. Summers were filled with early mornings, late nights, and training; lots and lots of training. During the summer they were either training, helping their dad hunt down some monster, or sitting in a run-down motel with shitty air-conditioning, complaining about how much their lives were sucking at the moment.

Sam, luckily, had been stuck researching the entire week. He had only had training twice the whole week, and he was almost ecstatic, y'now if his dad hadn't been mad at him for not being able to find more than a half a page worth of facts on some girl named: Maria Schildt, who according to her short obituary, died in 1941 for unknown reasons, just found her body in a unmarked grave. He tried to tell his dad that it wasn't his fault her family didn't care enough about her to write a proper obituary, or that her story wasn't interesting enough to fill articles of papers. He wouldn't have it, which wasn't a shock, and he just pushed Sam harder, barking him orders, " You can't go to sleep until you have at least another page of facts, are we clear?" He had said and Sam didn't understand why he had to find another page of facts on a ghost. They knew how to get rid of her; it was just a simple salt and burn, why did he need to research all this crap? Especially when his dad was doing nothing. After ranting off to Sam he had left, probably to go to a bar, and he hadn't seen him since.

He wanted to scream. He had gotten all the possible newspapers on Maria, and he now only had five more facts than last time, and the stupid motel clock was now blinking _12:39_ at him. He'd been at this since eight in the morning, and he had only taken two breaks, one to eat, and one to use the bathroom. And to top it off he hadn't seen Dean all day. He left at noon to go who knows where. Why did Dean get to go have fun and Sam had to stay back and research useless crap?

Sam continued re-reading the papers, checking to see if he had missed anything, when a pain went searing through his head. He grimaced a moment, took a breath, and continued reading. The pain continued, not subsiding, as he highlighted sentence after sentence, and the clock that read _1:02_ went unnoticed as he gasped out in pain, now fumbling for their bottle of Tylenol.  He quickly unscrewed the cap and gulped down three capsules. He threw the bottle down and continued his research.

_Gotta finish. Gotta finish._

_Make dad proud. Make dad proud._

Throughout his chanting and concentration on the papers, he didn't notice Dean walk in, or hear the "  Sam, why are you still up?"

Sam continued to highlight quickly, flipping the papers over feverishly. Dean closed the motel door with a loud thud, hoping it would break his brother out of his trance. When it didn't Dean stared for a moment at Sam quizzically, and then took three strides over to his side.

"Sam," Dean barked as he shook Sam's shoulder, initiating a yelp in surprise to come from Sam.

"Holy shit, Dean. You scared me." Sam yelped, scattering a few papers, and subconsciously grasping at his temple with his hand. Dean eyed the papers and then spoke,

"Yeah, I can see that," He chuckled at Sam's spastic response , " Why you up?"

 _Why were you gone?_ Sam wanted to ask, but he was having a hard time speaking with the pain that was -currently going off in his head. He felt like his head was getting close to exploding. That's also why he forgot Dean's question.

" Sam?" Dean's voice dipped down low, coated in worry, and he stared at Sam. He looked awful. " Why you up?" He repeated, slower, confused at Sam's attitude. His big brother senses were going off. Something was _wrong_.

"Oh," Sam breathed, " I uh..." Sam hitched in a breath, trying to ignore the pain, " Im researching stuff for dad." Dean narrowed his eyes and then began shaking his head.

"Okay, well its like one in the morning. You look tired and you dont need to be up at this time researching. Go to bed," Dean paused a moment, and remembered Sam's probably in pain, " Do you have a headache? Do you need any medicine?"

" No I can't go to bed...dad said I have to finish before I can go to bed." Sam stated lowly, as he began re-organizing the astray papers on the table.

Dean couldn't believe it. Dad was keeping the poor kid up, for all night if need be, to find facts about a ghost. They already knew how to get rid of a ghost, so why was dad keeping Sam up? In fact, why wasn't dad at the motel with Sam? If Dean had known Sam was all alone he would've came home hours ago. Sam could've been home alone when dad came home drunk, and who knows what the hell he would've done.

" Screw dad," Dean growled, looking at his determined and exhausted sibling, " You need to sleep. Do you need medicine, Sam?"

"But-"

"Sam!"

Sam sighed, defeated, and slumped down onto the chair, " I don't need any medicine, I already took some."

"Alright, well go to bed, I'll cover for you tomorrow." Dean rubbed the palm of his hand over his face and glanced over at their bed. Sam smiled weakly, muttered a 'thanks', plopped down onto the bed, and was out in a minute, tops.

0000

_He was in a living room, that much he could tell. How he got there, he had no clue. He continued studying the unknown room when suddenly he heard a scream. He tried to snap his head towards where he heard the scream, but he couldn't move. He couldn't move at all. He heard the scream again, and he wanted to go help, do something._

_He blinked and when his eyes opened again he was in a different room. The fridge to his left indicated it was a kitchen. The room was dark except for one nightlight that was shining from the wall next to the counter, and Sam quickly found out he wasn't alone._

_There was a lady with brown hair, who seemed to be struggling. He tried to ask, " What's wrong?" But nothing came out. What was going on? The lady began to struggle more and that's when Sam realized the opaque figure standing in front of her. The ghost was belittling and taunting the lady and Sam could do nothing! He fought as hard as he could to get free, but he couldn't. He was helpless and forced to watch it happen, he couldn't help._

_When the ghost began to strangle the lady and he knew he could do nothing he wanted to shut his eyes, look away. He couldn't; His eyes wouldn't shut. They were locked on the two figures in front of him. Sam figured the opaque woman in front of him was Maria, which figures he'd dream of her after spending his whole day researching her. The lady being choked was almost passed out, and Sam couldn't block out the pained choking noises she was making._

_And suddenly,  Maria changed her mind. She released the lady and then in a split second, flicked her hand, there was a cracking sound, blood splattered all over the walls, floor, and Sam._

_Sam screamed._

He didn't realize he was screaming, or that he was thrashing around. He hadn't even really realized he had woken up...or that it was a dream. Was it real? It felt real. But it wasn't, it _wasn't_. He couldn't stop screaming.

"Sam, its okay. Shh, Sammy, just a nightmare. It's okay, hey.." Sam finally acknowledged the voice, Dean's voice, and that embarassingly enough, his brother was what you might call cradling him. He sat up a little, making Dean loosen his grip. Dean gave him _the_ look and Sam shook his head.

" No, I'm fine. It was just a stupid nightmare from researching all day, Im fine. " Sam grumbled, trying to ignore the look Dean was giving him, and pushed himself away from Dean. He hadn't even realized that since he and Dean were sharing a bed, he had probably kicked him a dozen times and scared the living daylights out of  'em.

"You were screaming," Dean stated, his voice low, while giving Sam a worried look. Sam knew what he was trying to say: _You never scream._

"Sorry for waking you," Was all Sam could come up with to say. He turned away from Dean and re-positioned himself on the bed, almost cowering away from Dean. He hoped Dean would understand he didn't want to talk about it.

" I was already awake," And they both knew that was a lie. Dean always lied to make Sam feel better. It was silent for a while, the only noise being the sheets shuffling as both boys got comfortable.

" Night, Sam."

"Night, Dean."

Sam could still feel the blood splattering onto him.

Sam's head wouldn't stop pounding.

Sam didn't sleep.

.....

.....

Neither did Dean.

0000

 The morning went slightly different then Dean had planned. Their dad had came back to the motel at about eight, but surprisingly to Sam and Dean, he was completely sober. He wasn't in the best mood, but all that Sam cared about was that he wasn't drunk. There was a better chance of him not getting as mad.

 Dean wasn't as happy. Not that he wasn't glad that his dad was sober; that was fantastic. But Dean knew if his dad hadn't gone to the bar, he had gone somewhere else. But where? And he didn't even tell him where he was going, and he left Sam alone all night.

  "Where've you been?" Dean demanded the second John stepped foot inside the room. John took a moment to properly shut the door before glaring, and then responding to his eldest son.

  " Do not speak to me like that, Dean." John barked back as he shoved past Dean and dropped his bag onto the floor. He glanced at the papers on the table, and the half-asleep Sam and opened his mouth to speak, but Dean beat him to it.

  " Dad, where were you?" Dean asked again, taking a calmer approach. John sighed and swiveled back around to face Dean. He scrubbed his face with his hand and spoke gruffly,

 " There's been another attack."

  This got Sam's attention. He quickly lifted his head from the table and looked at his brother and dad with wide eyes, " What?" He asked a bit too loudly, startling both John and Dean.

  "Where?" Dean asked Sam's question for him.

 " A house just a couple miles from here. Some lady in her thirties. I  have to go back there real soon, I just came back to grab my badge. We're ending this tonight, Dean." Sam's heart beat quickened, remembering his dream.

But then, came to the conclusion, _Its just a dream. Its a coincidence, that's it._

"Dad?" Someone's voice spoke out, and Sam realized it was his, and crap, he hadn't meant to talk. His dad turned to him, looking a tad agitated, but waiting for Sam to continue. " Um..do you have any more details? Pictures from the, uh, the scene?" Sam asked slowly, hardly wanting to make eye contact with his dad. To his left Dean was eyeing Sam, wondering why on earth his baby brother would want photos from the 'crime' scene. Sam could barely watch a horror movie without throwing up, why would he want to see some photos that could be ten times gorier than some fake horror movie.

 "Sam-" His dad rolled his shoulders and took a slight step forward. He obviously didn't want to deal with Sam at the current moment. But then again, he never wanted to deal with Sam.

 " Just..do you? It's important." Sam all but whispered, pushing himself up further onto the chair. His dad sighed once he realized he wouldn't be able to leave until Sam got what he wanted. They'd argue for hours if he didn't just tell him the rest of the story.

 Dean continued to watch in the background, wondering why Sam wanted to know so bad. He almost wanted to stop his dad from telling Sam, until he heard the story for himself, but Sam obviously really wanted to know, and Dean didn't feel like dealing with a grumpy Sam.

John huffed as he dug through his bag, searching for the folder with the photos. He grabbed the yellow envelope from under other folders and threw them to Sam, who was still positioned at the motel's kitchen table. The envelope landed in front of Sam and the research papers fell to the floor, unnoticed.

Sam opened the envelope with shaking hands, slowly pulling out the pictures. He didn't want to look at them. He really didn't, but he had to know.

 " Got there this morning and the emf radar was going crazy. The woman's neck was broken, blood was just about everywhere, I dont even know how all of that blood could have came out just from a neck breakage. .." His dad continued to speak, Dean was probably listening, but Sam wasn't. Hadn't heard a word since he had flipped the pictures over to study them.

The same kitchen stared at him, the blood on the walls mocking him.

No, _No._

He laid the picture aside and went to the next. It was of a body, and if you looked closely you could see the abnormal position of the neck. You couldn't see the face,though, and he didn't know if he wanted to.

He felt nauseas. What was that ringing noise?

With shaking hands he placed the picture aside and went onto another. Brown hair, brown eyes, and oh so dead, sad, eyes. He dropped the picture and stood up with a rush, scooting the table and chair away from him, the result being a loud bang. He couldn't hear the " Sam?" from Dean over the ringing in his ears as he dashed into the bathroom, immediately emptying the contents of his stomach into the toilet.

_Oh god. I did this. I did this._

"Sam. Sammy!" Dean called out as he ran into the bathroom, dropping to his knees beside Sam. Sam hardly realized Dean was there. He was too focused on the fact that he had caused someone's death. That's what this had to mean. He had dreamt it..and it came true. It had to have been his fault.

"Damn it, Sam. I knew I shouldn't have let you look at those pictures." Dean sighed as he stood up to get a towel for Sam. Sam sat up and took the towel Dean offered.

"No that's not it," Sam responded shakily, as he wiped his mouth and then threw the towel onto the floor. Dean tilted his head and then sat back down on the cold, grimy floor with Sam.

" Then what is it?"

Sam panicked. He couldn't tell Dean. He couldn't tell his dad. He most definitely could not tell his dad. If he caused someone's death just by dreaming about it, that made him a freak, not normal, something was wrong with him. Supernatural wrong. Dean and dad killed not normal things.

Sam was now one of those not normal things.

They would kill him.

" I, uh I've been feeling sick this morning and the nausea just hit me all of a sudden." Dean looked at him, hardly believing a word Sam was saying. Dean put the back of his hand on Sam's forehead, wiping his bangs away.

" You don't feel like you have a fever."

" Food poisoning?" Sam suggested weakly, a hint of a smile showing on his face.

Dean licked his lips and sighed, " Yeah, okay." He paused, eyes flicking over Sam's face, " You sure it wasn't-"

"No, it was not the pictures, I promise." Sam smiled wide, " I'd never lie to you, Dean."

" I know you wouldn't, Sammy." Dean stood up, put his hand out for Sam to take, and pulled him off the ground.

Dean quickly forgot about the pictures.

Sam didn't.

**0000**

They left Louisiana three days later.

**0000**

Knowing he was home alone, he quickly wrote a note, simply stating:

**Sorry, but I killed those people. So I might as well do this for ya.**

The note floated down onto the table as his fingers danced along the shiny gun.

_Goodbye_

Sam lifted the gun and got a bullet to the brain. No one noticed the quiet be filled with a boom, or see the blood paint the bathroom walls red.

There was silence..

Until Dean returned.

He screamed. He cried,

_Why Why Why_

The second boom sounded.

Then there was one. 


End file.
